Earth Unaware (First Formic War)

“Jukes has agreed to pay all the back taxes and tariffs as well all fees and fines. Both the agency and Jukes will conduct separate internal investigations, and that will be the end of it.”
    “Tell me you’re joking. We should be taking this to prosecutors.”
    Fareed shook his head. “Not going to happen, Imala. They’re going to bury it.”
    “Then I’ll go to the press. I’ll tell whomever will listen.”
    “No one will listen, Imala. There are influences here much greater than you realize.”
    He was telling her that Ukko owned the media as well; that anything she did would be squashed by Jukes. Unbelievable. They were letting this man bully them. Even Fareed—who seemed like a decent enough guy and who probably didn’t take a dime from Ukko—was stuck under Ukko’s thumb simply because he was in a system Ukko controlled.
    “I got you on at Customs,” said Fareed. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s working with people, which you need.”
    “What is that supposed to mean?”
    “You’re a little rough around the edges, Imala. You haven’t made any friends since you came here. You despise everyone. This could be good for you.”
    “I don’t despise everyone.”
    “Name one person in your department with whom you have a friendship.”
    “They all kiss up to Pendergrass. They don’t care about the work. They make constant mistakes.”
    “How would you know they make mistakes?”
    “Because I’ve checked their work. It’s sloppy.”
    “Yes, and I’m sure they greatly appreciate you, a junior assistant, combing their work for mistakes.”
    “Pendergrass sure isn’t going to do it.”
    Fareed sighed. “You’re done, Imala. I stuck my neck out for you when the guys upstairs were ready to put you on a shuttle back to Earth. You can at least pretend to act grateful and take this job. Who knows? In a few years, I might be able to help you get on with a private firm.”
    Imala wasn’t sure if she should punch the wall or cry. A few years? He might help her in few years? This was his gift to her? This was him pulling a favor? She wanted to tell him no. She wanted to shut him down the same way she had rejected Ukko. But what good would that do her? The moment your work permit was tagged as terminated, you were gone. If she walked out of here without a job, she’d be shipped to Earth no questions asked. And then what? Back to Arizona to face her father and tell him how right he had been? No, she couldn’t do that.
    “What would I be auditing at Customs?” she asked.
    “You won’t be auditing. You’d be a caseworker.”
    “A caseworker? I’m not trained for that.”
    “Show them how smart and nice you are, Imala, and I’m sure they’ll give you more responsibility.”
    He handed her a data drive.
    “What’s this?” she asked.
    “Your first case. A free miner who came in a week ago from the Kuiper Belt on a quickship. No identification. No docking authorizations. Deal with it.”
    “How? I don’t know what to do with this.”
    “You know customs law, Imala. You know the regulations. The rest is paperwork. If you smile occasionally, you might actually be good at this.”
    She walked out of the office, holding the data drive. She stepped into the down tube and slowly descended, feeling numb. She had come to Luna because she believed she could do something important with her life, something meaningful. Now she was relegated to resolving petty customs violations. Pendergrass was right. She had gone on the warpath and picked a fight she had no chance of winning.
    She didn’t bother going to her desk. There was nothing there she needed.
    She paused in the lobby and connected the data drive to her wrist pad. There was a single file. A thin dossier on Victor Delgado. It didn’t tell her much, other than the fact that Delgado had been asking to speak with someone in authority since he had arrived. Imala found this amusing. Sorry, Victor. You’re stuck with a blacklisted former junior assistant. I’m about as far from authority as you can get.

 
    CHAPTER 22
    MOPs
    Wit O’Toole sat in the passenger seat of the Air Shark attack helicopter as it flew south from the village of Pakuli in Central Sulawesi, Indonesia. Below him, dense lowland tropical forests began to mix with shorter, montane trees as the chopper left the river valley and moved up into the foothills. Breaks in the trees revealed small, isolated family farms with simple wooden homes built amid fields of maize or